Playmate

Cʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 2: Aᴇʀᴏɴ

    People were almost crowding the house, filling the space that was supposed to be the living room and kitchen. The place wasn't big enough, but they all came for one reason: for Persephone.

It had been years since her death, but her life was celebrated. Outside of home, Persephone was a supportive and understanding friend to her tight circle of three. The two girls she left behind were devastated at the news of her death years past. They said they couldn't move on at having lost such a wonderful person.

At their insistence and with your parents' collaboration, Persephone's birthday was planned for every year as though she were here.

You were entertaining guests, mostly family members and a few of Persephone's friends. On the wall, her picture was beautifully framed, surrounded by all things that she loved. Chocolate, the books that she read, photos of her idolized celebrities, and a few more items were set on the table. Gifts were left nearby. And the one guarding it all was Persephone's favorite of all, Aeron.

It was a private celebration among the people who knew her. Sometimes, someone distant comes along, mostly a faraway relative who couldn't attend the funeral or the succeeding birthdays after that. So when a tap of a finger was on your shoulder, you regarded the person patiently. 

A woman with a wrinkled face, blonde-dyed hair with dark brown roots. The face was unfamiliar. "Hi, I just arrived. I've been sitting quietly here for a time." She gestured to the chair placed at the corner next to chatty guests. "I thought you would recognize me. Do you remember me?" She smiled hopefully, searching your eyes.

You pushed back the decision to help up with your mother in the kitchen, now facing the woman fully. "I'm sorry, what's your name?"

"Cassandra. Auntie Cass, remember? You used to call me that," she recalled fondly.

With minimal effort to remember, you shook your head lightly. "I'm sorry. I can't remember," you said, chuckling in discomfort. "Maybe you want to talk to my parents?"

"Oh no, it's fine. I don't want to bother. But I'm a little sad you can't remember. I was your neighbor. Lorelei needed help in taking care of you. I was there to guide her -"

People were passing by, mumbling to excuse themselves on the busy path you two were standing on. Gently, you put your hand on Cassandra's back and led her to her seat.

"Thank you for that," you told her distractedly as she sat.

"Yes, but I moved away when you were about three or maybe four. I also knew your sister. She was an obedient girl to your parents, good neighbor. I never knew she passed away until last year!" She exclaimed sadly, glancing up at Persephone's picture frame. "I was never told. I came back to town to visit a friend and met Lorelei. She told me about your sister's passing but Lorelei was rushing somewhere so I didn't know much."

"Oh, so it's your first time coming here again?" You asked conversationally.

Cassandra nodded and looked around with a warm smile. "Tell me what's going on here. I hear that you still celebrate her birthdays."

"That indeed," you confirmed when she herself answered her question. "You said you just arrived. Do you want something, water or some food maybe?"

She giggled. "Thank you, dear. I'd like a tall glass of cool water if you have it."

"Of course. I'll be back." Heading into the kitchen, you checked on the guests shortly before filling a glass with refrigerated water. 

Lorelei walked up to you with a cloth in hand. "Sweetie, can you help me get more plates in the cabinet? I'm drying the new ones I washed," she requested.

"On it, mom. I'll just give this to Cassandra - by the way, do you know she's here? She said she's our old neighbor. I couldn't remember," you said with a light laugh, and her eyes brightened up.

"Your Aunt Cass?"

"Yes, that's what she said."

"Oh, that's great!" She exclaimed. "Why don't I give her that and you get more plates from the cabinet." Taking the glass in her hand, she left the kitchen.

Though it was great that she was always remembered, that also meant dishes piling up a mountain in the sink and candy wrappers pushed in crevices or dropped on the floor by guests. Sighing, you went into the hallway and straight into Persephone's room. 

The house wasn't the biggest, but it was enough for a four-member family. Lorelei bought new things and Doyle kept the old ones, which were kept in the attic. Things that were stored for later use were put in your sister's room, especially your mother's beloved special sets of kitchenware and other items. 

Upon entering, you closed your eyes and inhaled. Nostalgia crept in. You opened your eyes and switched on the lights. The curtains were always closed ad Persephone's bedroom was changed throughout the years. The bed was pushed back to the corner to make more space. Her cabinet was untouched but locked. More cabinets aligned the walls that held Lorelei's precious dishes. 

The moment you looked around, you halted amidst your steps in cold surprise. Aeron was on Persephone's old chair, staring up at the ceiling blankly.

"What the f**k," you whispered to yourself, eyeing the doll. "I thought I placed you on the table in the living room." Shaking off the shivers, you walked over to him and put him face-down on the bed. The mattress was still there with the pillows, clothed and tuck neatly like Persephone always did.

The doll wasn't any harm, but it was haunting. When you were younger, you cuddled it to bed and treated it like it was living. You'd talk to him and tell him stories at night. Persephone had bought him attires when she still owned him, and you loved clothing him.

Now, it was different. Those black eyes were a pair of abyss that sucked your courage into its own. His pretty face was stoic, but sometimes it felt like they were smiling. It takes a few blinks to remind you that it cannot emote. But how can you, when it seems to stare at you mysteriously for a long time? You started having nightmares about it that it stalked your sister, but when nothing can calm you down, Doyle decided to lock the doll, with everything that reminded you of Persephone, in her room.

Proceeding to your task, you started opening doors to see which cabinet Lorelei placed the extra plates. 

Your memory was running. A beautiful dollhouse. Three cats. And Cassandra. You stopped to think. Was it Cassandra? It was hard to remember.

Sweet laughter boomed in the room, making you flinch and look around widely if someone had walked in. Not a soul. The door was slightly ajar, so you paid no mind to it and focused back on the task. By the third cabinet, you finally found the plates. Patiently, you took them out and stacked them on the bed, absorbed into the activity.

Then something fizzled above you. When you looked, it was only a glimpse of the bulb short-circuiting before the power cut off.

You almost carelessly dropped the ceramic plates on the mattress and yelled, "Dad!" He was the handyman in the house. If something needed fixing, Doyle comes to the rescue. However, it took you more screaming before you decided to amble in the dark.

You hated a lightless place, thanks to nightmares. In a way, Persephone's death strengthened your fear of the unknown. Sometimes, Lorelei threatened you that something hides in the dark, waiting to capture naughty girls at bedtime. It worked to scare you from being a brat when you were a kid. The fear carried on until now, albeit subtly.

As you fumbled in the dark for the door, your skin was on edge. A whiff of recognizable perfume made you feel dreary. The same laughter rang out, but this time it was outside the room, muffled by the walls. Your breathing shallowed.

It felt like Persephone wasn't far.

"Dad!" You called out louder than the racing of your heart. Your hands felt for the walls, desperately looking for the texture of the door. "Dad, come here! I can't see anything!" Your sense of direction was muddled. In your mind, you were standing in front of the third cabinet, which should be closer to the door.

Silence was loud in the room. You could hear the air coming in and our through your lungs and even the contact of the wallpaper with your skin. It was cold. You began to shake.

In your constant moving, you refused to acknowledge the soft noise in the room with you, something akin to a pair of footwear that treaded closely. 

"Dad!" You screamed, more panicked. The door was invisible up to this point. You tried to find the switch too, trembling as you did so. "Dad, mom!"

There was a rush of cold air, making you shudder.

"[Y/n]?"

You froze, blood running cold. Fear heightened as your heart thundered in your chest, your stomach churning uncomfortably. The voice was deep and steady, foreign to your ears, in the room, with you, near you.

"[Y/n]?" The voice called again.

Your lungs labored to breathe, eyes wide as you stepped back. The darkness was severe, impairing your vision. The silence was an enemy; you could hear your feeble attempt to move away. The wrinkling of your clothes gave away your location.

Suddenly, there was the ticking of a match, then the birth of light. The stick floated in the air. The holder lifted it up to his face, revealing his identity.

As he got closer, you backtracked, heart about to explode in fright as you exhaled. "Who are you?!"

The fire on his match stick touched the material of his wax. The candle glowed, emphasizing the haunting dark eyes that used to watch you every day. He lowered the lighted wick to his lips, which stretched to an enticing smile. "What're you doing here, your hiding spot?" He chuckled deeply, lasting an impression on your frightened state. "Everyone already found somewhere to hide but I haven't even started the game yet."

When your lips moved to speak, he blew on the flame, leaving you in total darkness.

"When I start counting," said the voice in your ear, making you shiver, "you should find somewhere better to hide."